


in the january rain

by kayyte



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayyte/pseuds/kayyte
Summary: “Don’t forget me.”“Would it kill you to say please?”“How humorous, considering I am actually dead.”“…I’d never forget you. You know I wouldn’t.”“I will return. I swear to you. I will return to you.”“I’m counting on it.”Only when the dust settled did the world seem to fall apart yet again, as if Merlin didn't have enough baggage.





	in the january rain

He had returned back to Camelot with Kilgarrah, in a trance. He gripped Kilgarrah and said nothing, pale and numb. The Great Dragon hadn’t uttered a word, he had decided it was best to allow Merlin to adjust, to take it all in.

Arthur was…dead _._

Just as the prophecy had foretold. And yet…It hadn’t. He knew from day one that Arthur would meet his end, yet, he felt relentless anguish. He had tried so very hard to divert Arthur from that cruel path, but to no benefit. Arthur had been destined to rule the great Albion, yet his journey was cut short at a youthful age. 

It was unkind, the way destiny decided people’s fate. 

Merlin had been dropped off at a distance to Camelot, the rest of the way on foot. Morning had grown into evening when Merlin was at the lake, watching the boat that held Arthur burn and weeping silently. Now, on his way to Camelot, the sun was beginning to set.

Approaching the front gates to the Citadel, Sir Leon spotted him, assisting Merlin, exhausted and lifeless with shock, back to the palace. He was escorted into an audience in the Great Hall, Queen Guinevere sat upon her throne, beside the King’s empty throne.

Arthur’s.

“Merlin.” Guinevere had breathed as the room went silent. Merlin, face sticky with tears and Arthur’s blood under his fingernails, trembled where he stood. Not in fear. Not in sorrow. Just his body trying to _feel something._ Because he could not feel a thing.

“Merlin.” The Queen tried again, tone gentle as her face softened. She stood from her throne, and as elegant and healthy as she was, she looked weak. Her eyes held dejection, their usual warm glow replaced by something dull as she was informed of the news. But her embrace to Merlin’s skinny form was warm, familiar. In a world of death and darkness it was pleasant to find someone so kind, so caring. She _knew_ how much Arthur had meant to Merlin. She knew everything. And he hadn’t told her a word.

 

_“I know your heart belongs to Arthur.” She had said so suddenly Merlin had suspected he misheard her._

_“I wouldn’t say that, but yes, he’s my best friend. He’s also a twat, unfortunately.” Merlin laughed. Guinevere rolled her eyes, gripping Merlin by the shoulders and turning him to face her._

_“Do not think you can fool me, Merlin,” She said, her eyes conveying an expression of indifference. “Even a blind man could see it.”_

_“And what about it?” Merlin replied, backing himself out of her arms. He pursed his lips, wondering who else knew._

_“Only one thing,” Guinevere said softly. Her expression became gentler, more forgiving._

_“Do not give up on him, Merlin, you simply mustn’t.” She finished, turning to leave Merlin and Gaius’ chambers._

_“And what am I to make of this?” Merlin called, utterly perplexed._

  

That was years ago. Now, half the palace knew. Gaius knew. Kilgarrah had suspected. Hell, even _Morgana_ knew.

Though his love, however obvious and passionate, could not save Arthur. Merlin was to be reminded every day how his care was not enough, how he failed to do what he was born to do.

“I’m so sorry.” Merlin had breathed into Guinevere’s shoulder. Guinevere was tearing up now, sniffling into Merlin’s chest, arms around his torso rather tightly.

“It wasn’t your fault, Merlin.” She replied, placing a hand on Merlin’s jaw, her thumb grazing his cheek gently, in a serene manner. Her hand was soft, but Merlin could feel the strain from years of servant work, her humble roots still ever-present on her newly regal fingertips. He leaned into it, enjoying his friend’s comfort. They understood each other better than many others could.

“You should get some rest. Gaius is here to take you.” Merlin looked behind him, spotting the white-haired elder biting back a sad smile.

“Gaius.” He sighed, rushing to his mentor and hugging him. He was gentle on the old man, but did not restrain his patent relief to see Gaius, alive and well. He had been through so much, yet there he was, still moving forward. Merlin had come to love Gaius, like the father figure he never truly had. They pulled apart, and Merlin spotted the shine of tears in his experienced eyes.

“You should rest, Merlin. Come.” He placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, leading him out of the hall with Guinevere’s permission.

  

“He’s gone.” Merlin said, tone dull and plain, yet with total disbelief. 

“It was destiny, Merlin.”

“It doesn’t feel right, Gaius. It shouldn’t be over yet. It _can’t_ be.” Merlin said, Gaius seating him on his bed. It was cold from the days of being neglected due to Merlin’s travels with Arthur during his last days.

“Merlin…” Gaius began.

“I just… I have a feeling. It’s not over. We didn’t even form Albion.”

“Merlin.”

“Kilgarrah said that he’d return eventually yet I don’t believe that. Arthur’s young. His journey can’t be over so soon. He’s still so—“

“MERLIN!” Gaius yelled, gripping Merlin’s shoulders. His eyes were narrowed in concern. Weary and old, they still held onto fierce emotion. 

“He’s gone, just as the prophecy foretold.” He stared at Merlin, his expression filled with despair and pity. Merlin didn’t want to be pitied. He wanted someone to listen to him, and that someone was supposed to be Gaius.

“You’re right,” He lied. “I just…,” He paused. “I need to adjust.” He sat down on the bed again, running his hands over the soft covers. He had missed this bed.

“I know this is hard for you, better than anyone.” Gaius consoled. “Rest, please.”

Merlin nodded, preparing for bed timidly. Gaius provided a sleeping tincture in case Merlin needed it, and closed the door, letting Merlin be alone in his room. Merlin blew out the last candle and the room plunged into total darkness, leaving the young man alone in the dark since Arthur’s death. He dared to open his eyes, to peer around the room and perhaps find Arthur there, informing him arrogantly that it was absolutely not that easy to kill the King of Camelot. To whack Merlin upside the head, and tell him to stop being such a baby, and go to sleep. Merlin closed his heavy eyelids, but struggled to fall asleep.

 

_“Don’t forget me.”_

  

Merlin rose from his bed so quickly he got whiplash, forehead and hair slick with sweat. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips, and heat in cheeks, as if he’d just been set ablaze by an icy hot fire. His elbow knocked over a wax-less candle stick, and the metal clanged on the stone floor, the loud noise followed by silence, only filled by Merlin’s heavy, heavy breathing. He reeled, startled.

“Merlin?” Gaius called from the other room. Morning light peeked through the cracks of Merlins curtains and past the window, thin rays shining onto the stone floor. Merlin wondered how long he’d slept, since heading to bed so early the night before.

“I’m alright!” Merlin assured the physician, swinging his feet off the bed. He wiped sweat from his forehead and struggled to remember what he had dreamt about. He remembered almost nothing except for an unrecognisable voice saying ‘ _Don’t forget me’_ …And that was it.

He continued about his day, the memory scratching at the back of his mind like a starving rat.

 

_“I hope you have a reasonable explanation for this.” Arthur said, making Merlin turn around, looking up at him. Merlin sat in a lake, after just falling in and drenching himself, totally accidentally when he was trying to refill his water bottle. He told Arthur it was on purpose, when both men knew it was not._

_“I was a bit hot, so I wanted to cool down.” Merlin said simply._

_“Get out of there, Merlin. Or I will take you out myself. We have a mission to continue.” Arthur stood at the top of the bank, hands on his hips. Their horses were tied to a tree a few feet away, as well as their belongings from the night spent in the woods._

_“No, thank you. I’m not quite ready yet.”_

_“Okay. You made me do this.” He jumped down the elevated bank, boots at the most shallow part of the lake. He leaned over, grabbing Merlin’s arm. Merlin fought back, arm slipping from Arthur’s grasp due to it being wet. Arthur, leaning forward, lost his balance and plummeted into the lake with a great splash._

_Reemerging, Arthur’s blonde hair flattened onto his head, and covered his eyes. Merlin burst into laughter, hugging his stomach as he cackled at the king. Arthur pushed back his wet hair from his eyes, and huffed angrily._

_“You will pay for this!” He lunged at Merlin, pushing him under the water. Merlin yelped, fighting Arthur’s grip. He escaped towards a tree at the edge of the lake, rushing to get out. His clothes were heavy as the stuck to his skin, hugging the tree once his feet were on solid land. Arthur trudged after him, his steps much bigger, sloshing around the water far more. He chased his servant out of the lake, catching him and pressing him against the tree, pinning both his hands above his head. Merlin was panting with laughter, Arthur from his struggle with Merlin and the lake water._

_Their breaths tangled, and there was a moment where they stared at each other. Merlin saw Arthur’s eyes flickered down to his damp lips, for the briefest of moments. Merlin swallowed. A tense pause as their soaked bodies were pressed together, thin wet fabric felt like skin to skin contact._

_“I hope you’ve a change of clothes.” Arthur pulled away, heading towards their camp. Merlin released the breath he didn’t know he was holding._

_He didn’t have a change of clothes, so he wore Arthur’s spare clothes until his own dried. Arthur clearly had a hard time hiding how much he enjoyed seeing Merlin wearing his clothes. Yet he attempted to conceal it with a transparent scowl._

Later, as day turned to night, the people of Camelot gathered in the square with mournful expressions, carrying scarlet roses, candles, and decorated glowing lanterns. The people began to set off lanterns into the sky, and they rose into the night, like glowing stars, thanking their king from the Earth. The memorial lasted all night, Guinevere giving her final goodbye speech, and receiving a loving response from the people through wistful cheers.

Merlin snuck off to the top of the guard towers, on a bridge in which there were no guards.

He captured a lantern and looked underneath at the small candle flame underneath the shade, his eyes glowing golden with the aura of magic. He released the lantern once more, and its flame grew and grew, into the glittering shape of a dragon, simulating the Pendragon crest. It roared in the sky, thrashing its elegant, fiery wings. The people stared in disbelief, as the beautiful dragon soared through the night sky, and disappeared into the air like an afire ghost. The townsfolk, rather than acting in fear, began to cheer and applaud. Merlin smiled to himself, watching as the children grew ecstatic with excitement and men and women admired the several other dragons Merlin began to enchant to life. Guinevere was somewhere watching, Merlin knew, knowing very well who was the culprit. But this magic, on the contrary to all Camelot had known, was acting on respect and good fortune. The people, somehow, knew of Merlin’s intentions to spread love towards the fallen King, shared with the sympathy of the people. A sacred bond between magic and Camelot, for the first time in years.

And it was wondrous, to say the least.

 

_“I swear to you.”_

 

 The next day Merlin visited the tavern, and caught up with the Knights. With so such luck in reducing his dreams, Merlin met up with the knights who had spent their free time cheering each other up over alcohol. Sir Percival looked miserable, his hard stare at the wall full of thought and longing, as one of the newer recruited knights attempted to make simple but unsuccessful conversation. The Knights of Camelot had lost lots of soldiers, Sir Gwaine, Elyan…Mordred. Those left seemed to be moving forward, not unfamiliar with the desperate times war brought with it, though grieving in their own ways nonetheless. 

Merlin stepped through the doors and was greeted by sad-but-smiling men who all patted Merlin on the shoulder, totally oblivious to what he had done at the final battle, yet grateful for him unconditionally. The blind kindness was charming, and Merlin found himself biting back an indistinct smile.

“How are you, Merlin? Have a seat.” Sir Leon asked, pulling up a barstool for the sorcerer. He sat down sheepishly, acting slowly and with a skittish demeanour, but eager. He had come to the tavern to be cheered up, after all.

“I’ve been better. How are you?”

“Delightful,” He said sarcastically. “Percival, however,” He nodded towards his friend who looked as if he was made of stone, with a sculpted sorrowful expression.

“Has seem devastated, and I can’t seem to figure out why.” Leon shrugged, drinking his pint.

“It’s been hard, getting the knights to carry on.”

“I get it.” Merlin nodded. “Now that he’s…” Merlin paused, the name begging to not be said. “…You know.”

“Yeah.” Leon nodded slowly. A man tapped Merlin’s shoulders, a face unknown to the sorcerer.

“Hello, Merlin?” He asked. Merlin nodded. “My name is Lamorak, you were the king’s servant, right?”

“Uh, yes, that’s me.” Merlin pretended it didn’t hurt to hear ‘ _was’_ the king’s servant.

“Did he find out about your magic?” The words felt like a punch to the gut. The habit of freezing up every time he was associated with magic consumed him, but he needed to learn that soon it would be common knowledge for Merlin to be the known sorcerer within Camelot. Merlin was welcome to the idea, and after the memorial, he hoped Camelot was too.

“How did you—?”

“When Camelot was under attack by a dragon, I saw you speak to it. It called you sorcerer.” He said nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about your secret, it was, and still is, safe with me.”

“Oh, I—. Thank you.”

“No worries. Did the King ever discover your abilities?”

“I—Yes, he did.” Merlin said slowly. He hadn’t thought about the situation since it had happened. He recalled Arthur’s reaction, how much pain it brought him. He remembered how he’d silently cried himself to sleep, hating himself for how he made the king recoil in shock, and betrayal. But later, Arthur had grown accustomed to it, at most. But the impression stayed, the impression that Merlin was not who he claimed to be, and Merlin didn’t think it would ever change.

“You’re very brave.” Lamorak said simply. Merlin had to assume the boy wasn’t in the war, judging by how young he was and how youthful his eyes seemed. He had a glow to him, a glow that a knight did not radiate. 

Merlin was envious, to say the least. Lamorak had asked a few more questions before bidding Merlin goodbye, and Merlin decided to turn to Sir Percival, who Sir Leon had stopped attempting to console long before Merlin had arrived.

“Did you lose someone?” Merlin began slowly, lowering his head to meet Percival’s gaze. “Did you lose someone in the battle, Percival?” He tried again, gently.

“I…” Percival inhaled. There was a long pause, Percival considering his words. As if he was making a final decision, right in front of Merlin. “Gwaine.”

“Gwaine.” Merlin breathed. He hadn’t known Gwaine had passed.

Merlin mentioned to Percival that he understood his loss. Merlin held Arthur in his harms, clutching his dear friend until his last moments. He knew the emotional toll of being in the presence of the one you love, dying in front of you. He knew the helplessness, he knew the fear. He knew the numbness, followed by misery and anguish.

This seemed to comfort Percival, as he became more detailed in his story.

“I held him, his forehead to mine.” Percival said slowly. Merlin could almost see the memories reflected in his glossy eyes. He had never seen the man so vulnerable. “I wanted to…to show him how much I cared. I wish I had more time to do it.” 

“It wouldn’t have shown your affection for him any more. He knew, Percival.” Merlin placed a reassuring hand on the knight’s shoulder. He hadn’t seen a knight of Camelot so emotionally distressed before. It humanised the warriors, reminding Merlin these men were _human_ , who knew the suffering war brought and felt the consequences, yet still continued to fight. People called the warriors brave, legendary even, but they still did not truly receive the credit they deserved.

“Lord, I miss him. I miss him so much, Merlin.” Percival pinched the bridge of his nose with his hands, rubbing his eyes. Merlin dared to defy the status difference, and hugged the knight, who leaned into the hug, accepting it gratefully. The knight seemed to be relived at Merlin’s understanding, as it was uncommon for two men to be in love. But Merlin knew very well, and would stop at nothing to make sure others felt welcome, no matter who they were.

He owed it to them. All of them. 

After all, it was his failure that caused their King to be stolen from them.

 

_“Don’t forget me.”_

_“Would it kill you to say please?”_

_“How humorous, considering I am actually dead.”_

_“…I’d never forget you. You know I wouldn’t.”_

_“I will return, love. I swear to you. I will return to you.”_

_“I’m counting on it.”_

  

“It was Arthur. I swear on my life.” Merlin gesticulated intensely, a determined glare in his eyes. Guinevere bit her lip, her shoulders tense with uncertainty.

“I believe you, Merlin, I do,” Guinevere hesitated in her throne, avoiding eye-contact with Merlin in the empty main hall. “But it could’ve just been a dream.” She offered sheepishly, her voice slightly quieter, a voice she would use on Morgana to soothe her after her night terrors. Unintentionally condescending.

“But it felt so _real_ , Guinevere. I heard him, as if he were in the room _with me_.”

“And why not go to Gaius about this? Perhaps he has an opinion that will satisfy you.” She suggested, shrugging with one shoulder. Merlin sighed. He _couldn’t_ go to Gaius, the elder wouldn't listen. He’d just mention the prophecy, and discredit all of Merlin’s claims, however true they were. Guinevere, however, remained uninformed to an extent, having no knowledge of the prophecy and thus unbiased.

“He’s no help.” Merlin said, off-handedly, shaking his head.

“And what am _I_ to do, pray tell?”

“I…” Merlin paused. He hadn’t had a reason to tell Guinevere, other than that he wanted to tell someone. “Nothing. I just wanted _someone_ to know.” He confessed. Guinevere sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I know you miss him, Merlin. I do too. But you need to understand he’s _gone.”_ She said with sincerity. Merlin cringed at the words, every single word he's hear from plenty of people, people who hadn't the  _slightest clue_ what he had lost, what he had spent years basking in the spoils of being a friend of Arhtur Pendragon. A true, dear friend, someone who had supported him and took him seriously. Someone who didn't patronise. Not seriously, anyway. Not the way everyone would, not the way Guinevere was now. 

“It’s not that easy, Gwen!” He exclaimed, running his hands through his hair, pulling away from Guinevere. She stepped forward to catch him but he tugged his shoulder away before she could touch him.

“You weren’t there. You will never know.” H felt his throat close up as he fought back a sad feeling, and his eyes grow hot with incoming tears.

“Merlin, I’m—”

“No,” Merlin swallowed, regretfully. “I’m sorry. I just—I have had my fair share of not-actually-a-dream dreams, Gwen.” He explained to her slowly. “Prophecies, foretold futures, flashbacks, communication with otherworldly beings in my sleep. This was no ordinary dream.” He informed her. 

“…And you’re sure?” Guinevere asked quietly. Merlin nodded.

“I swear I haven’t gone mad. Yet.” He huffed weakly, Guinevere smiling up at him, her eyes crinkled and shining. He hadn’t gone mad, but it sure felt like it. The emotional turmoil was growing to be too much. He was beginning to doubt his own mental strength, and could only keep thanking his friends who were there for him, like Guinevere.

“Okay.” She laughed in response, exasperated. She put her forehead to his chest and they embraced, Merlin comforted yet again by his dear friend.

 

 

_“I want to say…something I’ve never said to you before.” Arthur breathed, lips parted as he stared at Merlin with only what could be described as sorrowful bliss. Merlin shook his head slowly, rejecting the idea of Arthur saying his last words. But he couldn’t utter a phrase. He was too choked up in grief, jaw trembling as he panted, his breathing synchronised with Arthur’s heavy ones._

_“I love you.”_

_Merlin widened his eyes at the words, feeling hot tears well up in his eyes. Arthur only smiled every so subtly. He put a hand up to Merlin’s hair, stroking his head, consoling him._

_Before either of them could say a word, Merlin dove in. His lips pressed to Arthur’s, he finally felt what he had been imagining since the day he discovered his feelings for the king, all those years ago. But this moment was more than the fulfilment he desired, this was a farewell. He knew there was no saving Arthur, but what he did know is that his love for the blonde, bossy idiot was mutual and that he would spend every second of Arthur’s last moments making sure the king knew it. Merlin cupped Arthur’s cheek, as they leaned into each other. Arthur’s lips were cold, weak. But Merlin felt the passion regardless. They both pulled away reluctantly to catch their breaths. Arthur only smiled weakly to Merlin, that being enough for Merlin to smile back._

_Merlin clutched the armoured king in his arms, chests tight together. There was no stopping this. He felt Arthur go limp in his grasp, and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. Merlin stopped smiling._

_“Arthur. Hey. No—Arthur.” Merlin said to the king, until he knew for sure that, Arthur, the once and future king, was dead._

 

 

Merlin screamed in terror as he sprung from his bed and promptly rolled off and fell onto the cold floor. Gaius rushed into the room moments later, alarmed as he approached Merlin.

“What on Earth is the matter, Merlin?”

“Gaius, I—“ He swallowed heavily. He couldn’t remember his dream tonight, and felt as if he’d been rubbed the wrong way. He felt a sense of incompleteness. It troubled him, but he wouldn’t dare mention it to Gaius, or the physician would simply call him delusional. 

It had been more than half a year since the king’s death, and he only wished for all the pain to subside. It was, yes, but not fast enough.

“Just a nightmare. I’m sorry.” He said, rubbing his temple that hit the side of his bed.

“Oh Merlin,” Gaius said sympathetically. “I’m terribly sorry you must go through this alone. I know how hard it is. But, it has been almost a year. You mustn’t let this hold you back any longer.”

“I know.” Merlin hugged his knees, looking rather small compared to Gaius, who was sitting on Merlin’s bed.

“Why don’t you go on a walk with me and help me gather some rare herbs? It is very calming, you know.” This caused Merlin to express the ghost of a smile, the corner of his mouth barely lifting. Gaius, apparently satisfied with the progress so far, assisted Merlin to his feet and made them breakfast. Merlin would be satisfied with the sudden special treatment but it wasn’t in him to take advantage of the situation. He ate his porridge in comfortable silence as Gaius informed Merlin about their target herbs of the day. It was humorous, that they had fallen back into the same patterns while the obvious exposure of Merlin’s magic initially would’ve changed things. but regardless of what the people of Camelot knew, Merlin was _still_ the physician’s apprentice and was required to gather herbs. With or without magic. Now, with the Queen in power, Camelot was used to this.

“We’ll be heading into the woods, near the creek. I’m looking for a light blue fungus that glows blue to the touch. It’s rare, but difficult miss.” Merlin nodded in response to Gaius, between spoonfuls of his breakfast.

 

The sun was out that morning, the warmth refreshing against Merlin’s face. It felt as if the sun hadn’t shone since the day Arthur died, as if the loss of his life took the sunshine with it, the world plunging into darkness without him. Merlin wouldn’t be surprised, as the king’s passion and ambition brought out the best in others, thus acting like sultry sunlight on a drowsy, cloudy day.

Saying Merlin missed Arthur was a colossal understatement.

 

The tall grass reached his elbows as he sifted through, the rays of the sun peeking through the leaves of the trees. The flowing sound of the creek, and the singing of birds, created a peaceful atmosphere as he and Gaius made their way through the forest. There came a point when they finally spotted the creek, and separated to scour the area. Merlin wandered off on his own through the woods he knew all too well. He extended an arm, feeling the tall grass under his palm as he passed through. He stepped on twigs that snapped under his boots, but fell face-first when he tripped over something far more stiff.

He yelped as he hit the ground, then sat up and cradled his head for a moment. He blinked a few times and then looked back at what he tripped over.

And in front of him, was the King of Camelot himself. Sprawled out on the forest floor.

Wearing totally different clothes, and absolutely not dead. Or maybe he was. Merlin was too busy screaming to think about it.

He broke down, feeling as if all his efforts to heal were for naught as the source of his nightmares lay in front of him, a possibly dead king which he was _sure_ he had sent away on a flaming boat in memorial. He didn’t hear Gaius rush to his aid, but saw him crouch by the king after gasping in shock. Merlin had backed away, kicking dirt as he pushed his back against a tree. Gaius checked Arthur’s pulse and shook his head in total confusion.

“He’s alive!” Gaius exclaimed. Merlin’s heavy breaths began to slow down as he realised what was happening.

He didn’t know _how_ , but Arthur was back. And alive. 

“Merlin, I need you to carry him. We need to return to Camelot immediately.” Those words caused Merlin to gasp once more. Gaius repeated his order, and Merlin snapped back to reality and scrambled over to the king. He was trembling, but not in total chaos. He lifted the king, feeling the familiar feeling of his body against Arthur’s, but with less weight as the king was dressed in his normal clothing, his armour gone. He looked a bit skinnier, but healthy. His skin was warm. He was so, so _alive_.

They walked back, Merlin holding Arthur in his arms and feeling the weight of the king’s muscles, as he grew tired. They had already tried waking him up, but it had proven to be difficult, therefore Gaius suspected he may be suffering from some kind of injury.

Guards had shielded the two from the confused citizens of Camelot as they were escorted into the palace. People were gasping in shock, relief, fear, and all sorts of emotions. And with good reason; they had almost gone an entire year believing their king was dead.

And yet, here he was.

Merlin blindly listened to Gaius’ commands in treating Arthur, still fazed by the king’s return. He hadn’t a clue how the king ended up all the way back in Camelot, what had happened to him, or who may have helped him.

 

 

 

 

“Merlin, oh my _word_.” Guinevere exclaimed whilst rushing into the room. She hugged Merlin first, their embrace brief, but tender. She held him by the torso for a moment before spotting her husband, asleep in his own bed for the first time in months.

“Arthur…” She breathed, wandering closer. Carefully, as if she was afraid she’d startle him. But he was no where near waking up, just yet. He had a minor head injury, as if someone had struck him on the head to knock him deeply unconscious. Gaius suspected that whoever helped Arthur wanted him sound asleep when he was found.

Guinevere kneeled by the bed, taking one of Arthur’s hands in her own and speaking to him softly. Merlin didn’t dare attempt to listen, instead he stepped out of the room. In the hallway, he leaned against the wall and felt the cold stone on his back. He hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to feel.

 

 

That night he had no nightmares.

 

 

Merlin dared to enter Arthur’s room, two days later. He had assisted Gaius externally, retrieving potions and elixirs for the physician whenever he wished for them. He had not seen Arthur since finding him, because he didn’t think he was ready. The toll the past few months took on him were so immense he found himself scared he’d just break down again. He hated feeling like this. He was the most powerful sorcerer of all time, damn it. But no amount of magic could mentally prepare him to face the man he loved, months after his supposed death.

But he felt hope, inside him. Something was telling him it would be alright. That Arthur would see him and be happy, be grateful. 

That Arthur would forgive him.

 

 

It was sunny, as the light poured in through his bedroom window, overflowing the room with light that Camelot hadn’t seen in ages. Gaius was at the desk, mixing potions and mumbling to himself. Merlin closed the door behind him, and the sound of the door caused both Arthur and Gaius to look at him.

Arthur. Awake. It was a little more than Merlin anticipated, at least not so quickly. Their eyes staring, specifically Arthur’s, felt like he was given the weight of a thousand bricks to carry deep in his chest.

“Merlin.” Arthur said. Merlin swallowed. Arthur was shirtless, in bed, a bandage was around his torso where Mordred had impaled him. It was clean, implying the wound being healed. His sandy hair was tousled, but looked clean, as he seemed to glow healthily. Merlin was beyond relieved to see him doing well. It was all so unbelievably strange.

“Arthur.” He replied, slightly dumbfounded.

“Merlin! Just in time, Arthur woke up not too long ago. I was going to ask him a few questions.” Gaius welcomed Arthur, his tone mildly chipper.

“Questions?” He and Arthur asked at the same time. Upon noticing their synchronisation, they glanced at each other again. Merlin turned away almost immediately.

“Come.” Gaius urged Merlin over, and he stood opposite Arthur’s bed, the physician and his apprentice facing Arthur in bed.

“Arthur, may I ask what was the last thing you remember?” Gaius asked, tangling his fingers together in thought. Arthur hummed, looking away as he tried to remember.

“I remember…I remember Merlin and I were in the forest. We were approaching the lake.” Arthur said, nodding to himself in confirmation. Merlin’s mouth went dry.

“Arthur, you do realise you _died_ , correct?”

“I died?” Arthur asked, his voice unconvinced, humorous. He laughed, taking it as a joke.

“I sent you out onto the lake…after you died.” Merlin said quietly. Arthur’s smile of disbelief dropped, face no longer with playful confusion.

“Merlin…” Arthur began. Merlin straightened his posture.

“I’m going to head out, Gaius. Bye, Arthur.”

And he left, Gaius and Arthur left confused.

 

 

“Merlin, what’s the matter?” Percival called from behind Merlin. He was travelling down the gravel path near the training grounds, making his way into the town. He only meant to go for a walk, to clear his head. He did _not_ want to think about what had just occurred. He simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. Nor was he willing to try. His face must’ve given away his mood, because Percival was staring with concern.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, Merlin. Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong with you?” He slowed Merlin down by standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“It’s really not your concern.” Merlin shook his head. Percival lightly shoved Merlin, diverting the sorcerer’s attention from the ground, and to Percival’s eyes. He gripped Merlin’s shoulder.

“Merlin, you can talk to me. You helped me, I want to help you.”

“Leave me be, Percival.” Merlin warned, shrugging from Percival’s hold. He hurried away, leaving the knight standing on his own. He had to put it out of his mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! there will be more to come ;>
> 
> feel free to leave a comment, i'd love to know what you think!


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